


A Quiet Evening In

by Luthienberen



Series: Watson's Woes July Writing Prompts 2018 [18]
Category: The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes (1970)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 15:05:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15391383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthienberen/pseuds/Luthienberen
Summary: Watson tries to enjoy a quiet evening in.





	A Quiet Evening In

**Author's Note:**

> Written for July writing prompts. Prompt No. 22 You’ve Forgotten Something. Have memory play a role in today’s work.

Watson relaxed into his seat, happy to have an evening alone in their home. Holmes had departed to don his disguise for their current case, (the details of which Watson was yet in the dark of, much to his annoyance), suggesting that he would do a minor reconnaissance before involving Watson…if he wished to be involved that is.

Such an announcement had surprised and alarmed Watson. Of course he wished to be involved with Holmes, when did he not?  Even if it concerned the Russian Imperial Ballet. That entire mess with the prima ballerina was water under the bridge and Watson was ashamed of his behaviour.

Whatever Holmes’…predilections, he was Holmes’ friend so naturally any case he was on, Watson wished to share it to protect his friend, assist in any capacity he could and observe his methods.

Sipping his brandy by the fire and trying not to doze after a day of visiting patients – surprising in the fact he had managed to do so without either Holmes springing up and declaring he was needed right now, or even Lestrade materialising and requesting his professional services on a corpse.

He really ought to suggest to Lestrade they employ a Police Surgeon instead of lurking about ready to seize his good self. Watson had enough of Holmes doing so and with the police adding to the mix he was suspicious of every police officer and constable he met (not openly, Holmes had taught him discretion at the very least).

Still puzzled by his friend’s behaviour Watson allowed his gaze to drift over their sitting room. Books and files all neatly ordered on the shelves. Ah, Holmes had spared the filing system his enthusiastic explorations.

The table newly cleaned of a small supper of which Holmes had taken only a few bites of duck.

Holmes’ lumpy dressing gown over the armchair…

Sighing, Watson rose and went to hang it up and frowned when he saw the revealed bag on the seat. So that is why it was lumpy.

It was a middling size black bag, of generous space inside and sturdy leather. They had brought two when browsing the shops together one day.

What was it doing here? Surely Holmes would have taken it with him, as he used it to carry his costumes?

Worried now, Watson was struck by an idea. Leaving Holmes’ dressing gown on the armrest he crossed the room to the door and his heart sank. His bag was gone. Had Holmes taken the wrong bag, forgetting to check which was which?

Hurrying back over to the bag on the armchair Watson opened it to discover women’s clothing.

“Good gracious!”

Why would Holmes have women’s clothing? And what would happen if he discovered he had brought Watson’s medical supplies instead?

Anxious for his friend’s safety and resoundingly curious, Watson began rifling through the embarrassing collection, desperate to find some indication as to where he had gone.

He discovered a small card which had plain lettering on it

“The Butterfly Club?”

A single address followed.

Perfect. Rising, Watson hastily gabbed his coat and hat and took firm grasp of Holmes’ bag. Holmes only had a fifteen minute start, so it was plausible for Watson to catch up with him if he hurried.

How Holmes could forget to check which bag he was carrying was beyond Watson. Though…yes. Holmes had been uncountably excited about this mysterious client and case. Watson had been suspecting either a particularly exotic murder or nefarious  government secrets, involving Mycroft.

The man had been so busy calculating his next move that he had forgotten his _current move_ , that is, _taking the correct bag._

So much for a quiet evening.

Holmes could disrupt his plans even from afar.

Waving down a hansom to take him part of the way, Watson felt a thrill rise within, for he was now part of the mystery and would soon be with Holmes, (and his friend would be infinitely safer with his presence, gun and lady’s garments, ahem).


End file.
